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Dec 2016 · 505
Scab Wounds
Gosiame Legoale Dec 2016
I don’t think you ever really see me do you?
I exist much like the air inhaled, I'm well within your orbit but you don’t really see me do you?
I seem to exist solely for your benefit, to replenish your cells and get your blood circulating
And while I give you life, my status within your realms is akin to a manner of precipitation…
I noticed the clouds gather, I offered shelter because you matter
The curse I’m blessed with, one of secondary placement for the greater good and benefit of others
To empathise with the seemingly unforgiveable at the cost of my own bothers
Pathetic I know, but it was assumed the minor sacrifices would be worth it because you were
Pathetic because even as you termed me such I still loitered, I stayed near…
Pathetic because even as you eroded any notions of self-worth, mines was a heart plagued by fear
Could I ever, would I ever be good enough
Why was mines a pursuit so rough
Surely there is everything wrong with I, it has to be I mean why else?
Is it that perhaps he gives better *****; he erodes your ***** like no one else
That why I can never measure up? That why our time is up?
Perhaps it’s within his touch, he leave the kind of bruises I’m not capable of
He tell you where to ******* like I’m not capable of?
Could I get better, can I be better and yet selfishly you still manage to reign me back in
Not enough that you leave detonated my most vulnerable bits, that you have me conflicted as sin
But I have to try for cordial now when I should rightly will you off a buildings edge
Within I, you left dormant, yet strokes of a mountainous rage
I bid you please; I beg you kindly, dare it not to erupt
I want it not to erupt because all that is good with me, all that I feel I am, I don’t want it to corrupt
We said goodbye and let it be that, I might care that you breathe but it bothers me not how much
We’ve been allocated dedicated lanes, rather we stick to such
If you ever cared at all then afford me sanity and let me be
I cannot risk you ruining me
I’m bitter, angry and disappointed. Not so much with you but with me.
I let you be you at the cost of me
I saw the true reflection when I was the one battling remorse.
The crimes were yours, the burden mine
I gave myself to you. I now wish I hadn’t but I gave myself to you.
I still have your taste in my mouth, still aroused at the slightest thought of your touch…
I pray it goes but it stays with me and that makes me want to hate you more
It reminds me again just how pathetic I can be.
We said goodbye and let it be so, when you explicitly said that we can never be so,
We’ve said goodbye and let it be so.
I was just a cluster of emoticons. I still am. Hurt does that & it battles my better judgement. Learning to walk away this is more a rally cry to myself. It's me getting out what perhaps lay volatile inside and I gelot it out the only way I know how. The heart can be treacherous so its a reminder to self.
Jun 2016 · 592
If Love Wrote Back
Gosiame Legoale Jun 2016
Good day Gosiame,
Many consider the broad strokes on wide grins the epitaph of love. My misadventures have the pessimist within eager to press this home. I still quietly revel at the stolen few, for the current days and status like demeanours that determine our life’s compatibilities have them reduced to but an air of myth. Urban legend if you will.  Happiness was foretold and so it shall be but happiness also resides comfortably within conflict. The many contradictions that define the needs and wants of the heart offer up the best versions of such. Happiness does if anything represent a worthwhile attempt at those grins, thus the reluctant pursuit.
I wanted you when you barely knew I existed but still I could illicit some pearly whites, my maths seemed flawed…
The heart is a destructive tool but remains the bravest of all organs and thus the most important. We do battle for matters that affect it. We challenge all reason and enter debate with our fears for the heart. A tentative approach is the most convenient vice but involve the imaginarium and the possibility of a mind without realms, you notice that it’s far from just a solitary foot in.
The world understands us not. It was never designed to. In all its materialistic glory, ours is a matter that comes unbound and again your grins have my nature ever more complicit. I should tell you to quit it because you ruin me, but the possibilities of having you even attempt to put me back together with that unassuming glance you possess…
See it’s hope that marks my inability to string anything past the outwardly curl and partial lift at the ends of your mouth. Someday, one day soon I might yet hold all rights and the good fortune of that moment your checks swell up, eyes half flutter and your sincerity bursts through. That moment when you stop time and in staring you on I am front and centre to all that matters at that particular moment. Your blessings never cease
Regards,

Jun 2016 · 492
Untitled : Lost Letters
Gosiame Legoale Jun 2016
Hey,
I offer very few words often preferring that my riddles get ushered out in scribbles, it’s the chosen if not more cowardice stance but I plead sincerity. It’s my forum, sanctuary and how I speak to the world. It is how I speak to myself often where I am brave enough to part with that which I would rather, normally, and sometimes with reason, keep close chested. Bare with me if you bid, I’m still breaking into rhythm. I free write, so may encounter a misplaced line. It happens when I let my mind roam free, I don’t do properly constructed very well. I digress.
Yours smile. That laugh. Your thighs. Your nose. The way you get upset at absolutely everything. I dig that about you and was foolish enough to take it for granted. Not define really, so used to rolling with the punches I half left it neglected. Shame, a consequence I seek to amend. Alter. Be it a tad in vein. I’d rather that I have tried. But oh your smile, that laugh. I long for the Sundays that never were. What they could have been only the fates will know, you were the habit I quickly adopted and like any good habit, I didn’t see it through. The injustice of being a ***** is the role play of hindsight, retrospection, you can do very little by such except replay it, the ***** of torture I gather. A travesty if you ask me. You thought I was bemoaning the luxury of you being a convenience; I missed you for the sake of missing you. I can’t fault that train of thought, it crossed my mind and consider how it was I was able to portray neglect, valid in every sense. I’m thinking now. It pretty well could have been. It probably is but there is also the lingering frustration of what could have been. The possibility, it had barely sparked and then, load shedding. Brogues of frustration. I do enjoy you though, thoroughly that had to count for something. I can only hope
Those words still burn, how I was so comfortable with my life and my ways. I am, and reluctantly there was likely an aspect from myself adverse to the change, I gather though it has more to do with the systematic flaws I carry around at not being able to fulfil that of a consummate boyfriend. Perhaps I am selfish and unfamiliar with how one steers clear of trouble. How not to get scolded is but a foreign concept I gather, being aloof second nature. The very things I would imagine an initial trigger being the most irritable, it would then have to come from me wouldn’t it. So stuck in my ways and always expecting the conforming into my ways leaving little room for anything other than that. I gather it has to do with mine tentativeness at the matters that come attached with relation meaning that soon enough my flawed character is left bare et al for the scathing universe to see and picking it all up again, not so fun. Perhaps it’s my little defending.
To try for an explanation I am a very selfless ******* and I hate that. It leaves room for train tracks to tattoo my flesh and I think I’m sick of the second fiddler role. Friends to family and those I generally consider I may care for. It’s a part of the Gosiame matrix and I often realise or stupidly so that you get very little back. You the great guy, that is about all really. I have opened up to the prospect of relation and the thing is when I do, I really leave the door more than ajar, I don’t hold grudges but it burns. I think. I don’t wish it on any I am not fond of, and there is only so much of numb we can all endure, even I have my limit of spilt drink and the love that was. I may have opened the door to the wrong parties but then again I have never claimed to be the best judge of such. In any essence I am a toddler to these things so a little coaching and patience does really go a long way. I am a terrible human being, more so when I hate that you get jealous at what I have considered second nature before you came along and then realise that I too hold the ability at this thing called jealously, some character probably has me acting a fool in the fist cuffling cuffing fights I have imagined us engaged in. That is as far as it goes nor will I admit at being human. I like my super coo unattached unbothered aloof stance.
You came at me like a gust of wind and I got taken in by the fun of it all. I will admit to that. I wrongly imagined what will be will be as is the prerequisite if you are me and well that the roles will identify themselves. I think I am being repetitive. I am habitual. I claim to hate routine and my small comforts, in truth I probably enjoy complaining against them far more than I do being drawn away from them. In any case, you would need to be very clear if there is any fool hardedly romantic stuffings to be done because my lazy self will opt to steer clear of any pants and make out with the remote control while yelling at the tele. That day I imagined you would make your way over. In truth I thought it one of your unreasonable rants all over again, thought you’d calm down, make your way and well that never happened did it. The lack of boyfriend in me had at no junction sought to reason that she may need to get met halfway, I apologise. In my mind I had not canned our plans, just altered. I think I know better. Look I need stick it notes for the thoughts I had five seconds ago.
This is getting ridiculously long winded and moving in a roundabout way. I like that I could possibly refer to you and your forehead as my girlfriend. I like you in all you’re B Cup glory, that they could just be perfect for you. I won’t make any false promises not to anger or infuriate, as the way history runs down for us, but I will do so only in a manner that makes us unique, fun, bearable in a sense. I had a hand written letter and then you scolded and thus I knuckled down to type this, consume ridiculous amounts of this ridiculous coffee and ask forgiveness and show you that I am learning. Did I mention that I miss your ******* and the way you tend to cup them? I made fried rice and it was so lovely, can’t get over such. I’d like to give it or us a solid go, if not only for your laugh, oh and I keep getting these things that require a plus one all the time so that could be handy but more so because I want you in unimaginable ways, manners that I can’t even describe to myself. And I’d hate to walk away from what could just be the best thing to happen to me, no that smells like a line, the sexiest. That rather!
I miss thee
PS. Will you go out with me? For like real this time? In real life?

— The End —